


Run Deep

by InterfaceLeader



Category: Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, References to Drugs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-12
Updated: 2018-02-12
Packaged: 2019-03-17 11:48:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13658367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InterfaceLeader/pseuds/InterfaceLeader
Summary: Tseng has partnered Rude with Reno, but the two can barely stand to be with each other. Can the two overcome their differences long enough to track down a mysterious drug-pusher?





	Run Deep

 

Reeve stood at the enter of Upper-7. The construction had finished three days ago, and Rufus Shinra had been brought out on one of his rare public appearances to open it. All blond hair and white teeth, the President's son had made an impressive speech before cutting the delicate ribbon that marked the entrance to the new complex of malls, apartments, high-rise offices, and outlying houses.

Reeve ran his eyes over the white stone walls. They glowed in the sun. Yet already he could see the slight greenish tint unfurling within the surface. Like insidious poison, the mako smog flowed across the city and left everything dark.

It was not every man that was lucky enough to see his dream made flesh. Reeve had been doodling pictures of his utopia for as long as he could remember. At first they had just been quick scribbles, but one architecture degree and several engineering courses later, the doodles had become plans and blueprints. He had been an intern in the Shinra Energy Research Department when the President had passed through the canteen and noticed the intent young man working out the best support structure for the plate. At the time, the President had said nothing. But he had been promoted fast, and eventually a new post on the executive team had been created.  _Head of Urban Planning_.

Parts of Midgar had already been put in place: the central pillar, with cartwheel spokes to support the first part of the plate. The Shinra building had been built on top of that, only thirty floors of it then. Still, they had an unparalleled view. The first two reactors had also been built, and a series of high-flown roads connected the reactors with the centre.

Reeve closed his eyes. It had all gone wrong. He had given in on the wrong things. He had not expected the riots from people refusing to evacuate their towns. He had agreed with the President that it would be better to leave the towns be, beneath the metal plate. "They'll soon get tired of living in the guts of a city," the President had said. "And then we shall invite them to join us in our city of the sky."

He had done his best. He had created the train system, in the hope of giving those below easy access to schools and jobs. Despite his efforts, the towns stagnated, turned dark and fell into disrepute. Even the names were soon forgotten. Midgar had swallowed them whole.

But worse than the slums was the smog. The city was meant to be airy, pale, and full of light. But the mako pollution got into everything, stained the metal, darkened the windows, lay in a dense layer across the city and shut out the sun. Upper-1, the first completed sector, had been a flowing cityscape of gardens and open roofed public buildings. Now it was a claustrophobic maze filled with rotting vegetation. It was being rezoned, the gardens bulldozed to make way for rows of identical terraced houses.

Reeve rubbed his knuckles across his face and took a deep breath. No regrets. He was standing in a fine plaza of cobblestones surrounded by ornate buildings. He had learned from the mistakes of Upper-1. No gardens. No metal – it turned a dismal grey-green in days – and not too many high-rise buildings. He would recreate the visions he saw in his mind's eye.

Reeve nodded firmly, and reminded himself why he had come to Upper-7 in the first place. He crossed the square, and went down a side street. Most of the buildings were empty - not all of the buildings had even been sold yet – but a little coffee shop had opened on the first day, and it was there he had arranged to meet Tseng.

The Wutain was already inside, typing on a netbook while a cup of black coffee steamed beside it. He glanced up as Reeve entered, finished typing something and closed the netbook with a snap.

"Sorry I'm late," Reeve said. "I got distracted."

Tseng nodded, and Reeve went to the counter to order a cappuccino. The blond woman smiled brightly as she made it, and Reeve found himself smiling back. Things were not so bad. It was a good city, maybe not the paradise he had wanted, but still orderly, self-contained, and thriving. Realtors were falling over themselves to invest in the new developments, and each section was expanding outwards in a radial pattern that was a joy to see.

"So how's things?" Reeve asked. He was never too sure what Tseng did. He knew that he was Head of Administrative Research, but the dark-haired, black eyed man rarely showed up to executive meetings and never volunteered information on his projects.

Tseng considered. "On the whole, fairly good. Better than usual anyway. And you?"

"Oh yes, working on some new ideas for Sector 8. I'm thinking of building clear plastic 'skylights' into the roads, so that the town below isn't totally cut off from the sun."

Tseng raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"Well, originally there wasn't supposed to be anything below but industrial zones. But if people insist on staying there..." Reeve trailed off. Tseng looked faintly amused. "You don't think it would work? I admit, I can't see a way of preventing them getting scuffed up and damaged. But I'm sure there's a way, I just haven't figured it out yet."

"You are an eternal optimist, Reeve. That's why I like you."

Reeve shrugged. "Everything changes. Why not for the better?"

"Why not indeed. Reeve, I have a favour to ask of you."

"Really?"

"Yes. I need access to PlanWeb."

"Is that all? Well, sure, I can give you that. Whatever for though?"

"We're collating information on land-value and developer investments."

"Hmm. For Midgar?"

"No. Junon."

"Ah – well, PlanWeb will have the specifics. But I can tell you now – obviously Shinra has the majority, but a company named Horizons owns quite a percentage."

"Horizons?"

"Yes... they specialise in the commercial sector. Mainly entertainment, bars, cinemas, theatres, that kind of thing."

"Interesting. Who else?"

"Let me think. There are three residential realtors, they probably have fairly equal shares, although two of them have been putting quite a bit up for sale lately."

Tseng sipped his coffee. "Good prices in Junon at the moment?"

"No, that's the strange thing. I always thought land and property in Junon would be a great investment. But lately the bottom has fallen out of the market. House prices are plummeting, and I've no idea why. It would be a nice place to live, Junon. Everything in walking distance."

"House prices can be fickle."

Reeve shook his head. "It's against the historical average. I had a predictive model set up actually... it's a shame I don't have my computer. In theory they should have risen by about 3% year on year whilst Midgar was under construction."

Tseng's PHS buzzed. The Wutain looked apologetic. "Sorry. I must take this call."

"Sure, go ahead."

Tseng answered the phone. "Yes, Rude?" He listened for a moment and then frowned. "No. Find him, get him under control." His black eyes flicked to Reeve. "He needs to be house trained. That's all. The potential is there." He hung up. "One of my employees picked up a stray dog. Smart as a whip, but wild."

Reeve nodded. "You like dogs? I'm more of a cat person myself."

* * *

Rude was a man who accepted the twists of life with equanimity. When his partner had died, cut down by a Wutai terrorist with a summon, he had mourned him quietly. The dead Turk had been a good friend. The two had suited each other, both quiet, methodical workers. He had certainly never stormed off in a huff and forced Rude to start hunting across the whole of Midgar for him. Still, Turks died. It was not unexpected, and Rude did not let his grief interfere with his work. He had been deployed as a solo for a few months: mainly assassinations, but a few kidnappings as well.

He had known of Reno, of course, but the newest Turk had spent most of his first six months bouncing around the middle continent chasing some eco-terrorist group. Rude had been introduced to him briefly, and then the two had gone their separate ways.

Rude pushed open the door of yet another pub, and scanned the room quickly. Red hair stood out; the Turk himself stood out. All action and noise. No sign of him here, as indeed there had not been in the past thirty pubs Rude had checked.

So much for the upper-plate. Time to start on the drinking establishments below.

* * *

Reno stormed through the slums. A mugger, more foolhardy than most, jumped out of the shadows on the heels of the Turk. Reno barely broke his stride, spinning and slashing with the EMR. The mugger dropped in a ball of crackling pain, and Reno kicked him in the head for good measure.

"Fucking  _idiot_ ," the red-head snarled. Snapping back around, he continued through the slums. Rude had pissed him off. Big time. He'd been prepared to work with a partner. On meeting Rude he'd tried to be friendly, even. But those blank mirrors and impassive mouth left you feeling like you were talking to a rock. "You know what they call people who talk to rocks? Fucking  _nutters_."

He picked the bar at random, slamming the door back into the wall. The bartender looked up apprehensively, then scowled when he saw the scrawny man in disheveled blue suit. "Watch it buddy! We just had this place repainted."

Reno looked critically at the walls. "What, you mean you smeared the vomit around a bit? Give me a fucking break."

The bartender's scowl deepened. "You don't like it, shove off and find somewhere else to drink."

"What the hell do I care about your crummy decor?" Reno strode to the bar, flashed a glance around at the other drinkers, most of whom were watching the altercation curiously. Reno pulled a 200 gil note from his pocket and put it on the bar. "Gimme the whole bottle. Talisker. Buy yourself another can of paint with the change."

The bartender looked at the note. Deliberately, he took the counterfeit pen from beside the till and marked the bill. Reno smiled. It was not a pleasant smile. The bartender looked at that smile, and decided abruptly that the best thing to do would be to get the red-headed troublemaker outside.

"Here then," the bartender took down the bottle of Talisker and held it out. Reno took it, opened it, and took a drink. "Come on man. This is peaceful establishment. You want a fight, go up the road."

Reno took another swallow, then grinned at the bartender. The whiskey was burning a trail down the back of his throat and lighting a fire in his stomach. "Why go all that way when I can start a fight right here?"

"This is a family place," the bartender waved unconvincingly at the rows of grizzled alcoholics slumped mournfully over their pints and shot glasses. "I just redecorated."

Reno held the bottle up to the light, admired the golden liquid that swirled within. "Tell you what. Tell me where I can score some Maysay and I'm gone."

The bartender hesitated. "Well. I don't know much about that."

"Give me a  _goddamn break_. This is the shittiest dive in the slums. You guys practically fucking piss Maysay." Reno slammed the bottled down onto the bar. A few of the customers muttered behind him, though none loud enough to draw the red-heads ire.

"You could try the Cock." The bartender shrugged. The bar two streets over was a well-known hangout for the less savoury element... and beside, they had a fearsome bouncer that could probably make mincemeat out of this kid.

Reno studied the bartender, then smiled again. He took a swig from the bottle – it was over halfway empty now – dropped it casually onto the bar, and headed out. He glanced up, at the metal cage that was slowly taking form above the slums. Great spears of metal jutted at odd angles, the first circle of the eight sectors had been completed, with the exception of Sector 8. Reno squinted at the empty pie shape, crisscrossed with support beams and trailing wires. Already Sector 1 was growing; reaching hungry metal fingers out to grasp at the Mako Reactor built high on the edge of the city. Reno had seen Reeve's plans, knew that eventually the whole of the slums would be encased in metal. The stars were already gone, drowned out by smog and light pollution. The sun would go next, only glimpses being caught between the girders, a piece of the light being cut off every time the city swelled. Until, one day, the sun would disappear forever and the slummers would be shut into eternal darkness.

A smile twitched at Reno's face. Idiots, all of them. If he could see the inevitable, then surely they could. Why would you willingly let someone build a trap around you? They deserved everything they got. He'd made it out. Was now a big-shot working for the most powerful company in the world. These idiots left down here couldn't find their own backsides, just sat about and waited for the end of the world.

He remembered Rude, and groaned. He had asked after the Maysay on a whim. The target they were supposed to be gathering intel on was connected with the trade in Maysay. Quite how, they weren't sure. What was certain was that every sale in the city of the illegal drug somehow ended up putting money in Anton's pockets. Anton himself was a social butterfly in the Upper World. He threw magnificent parties, served the most expensive and fashionable food, and took vast groups of the indolent rich on month long holidays to Costa del Sol and Icicle Inn. He was as far away from the violent drugs trade as you could get. All his money seemed to have been made in land – a tenement row here, a factory there – but once you started to scratch the surface of his holdings there were great sums of money unaccounted for, flowing between bank accounts, changing hands multiple times in a few seconds.

Then he and Rude had argued.

Reno paced between the piles of junk, and wondered what to do. He could call Tseng, but he suspected Rude might have already done that. What would he say anyway?  _I got pissed and ran off_. Way to impress. No. Reno needed something to redeem himself. Fine.

To the Cock then, for a little drug raid.

* * *

Rude pushed open the door to the next pub. His face was impassive as he scanned yet another room of drunks. Then the bartender looked up and saw the blue suit, and the broad shouldered giant within it. His eyes widened.

"Damnit, I gave him the best information I had! He told me to keep the 200 gil! I have it right here!"

Rude looked at the bartender.

"Don't give me that look! He damaged my wall, just look at that dent! I don't want any trouble."

"..."

"Look, as far as I knew, the Cock is where everyone goes for Maysay, I don't know. Where else could I send him? I don't know!"

Rude nodded to the bartender and gently closed the door on his way out.

The Cock was larger than most of the surrounding buildings, and had the stripped metal edging and tooled black leather that passed for style in the slums. The windows were dark when Rude arrived, and the Turk studied the quiet pub thoughtfully. The surrounding streets were deserted. Suddenly a high-pitched shriek rang out and abruptly cut off.

Rude had not lived as long as he had by being impulsive. He checked his materia first, running a finger over the green orb. Then he checked the earrings that protected him from the various spells of confusion, paralysis, and silence. Then he cracked each knuckle, and entered the Cock.

The main bar area was a mess of splintered wood and smashed furniture. There was a dark scorch mark up one wall. Alcohol dripped down the back wall of the bar and pooled across the floor. Someone was slumped face first across a chair, though Rude noted the faint rise and fall of the chest. Broken glass littered the floor around him.

Rude listened, and caught the sound of voices from behind the door that would lead to the cellar. Following the noise, he stepped onto a staircase and glanced down at the red-head lighting a cigarette. A heavy set man was kneeling in front of him, holding one useless arm to his chest and whimpering. Reno flicked ash onto the man's head.

"Alright. So you get the drugs from a guy named McCoy, who gets it from Stella at the print shop. And the lovely young Stella gets it in bulk from a guy up North Street." Reno blew out a mouthful of smoke. "But the guy up North Street... he still ain't the top of the little chain, now is he?"

The man groaned, lifted wet round eyes to the steady green-blue ones of his tormenter. "I don't know! I don't know! I just sell it, that's all, I just sell it..."

Reno grabbed the man's hair and yanked him to his feet. Putting the cigarette into his mouth, he curled the other hand into a fist and hit the man in the mouth. Rude heard teeth crunch.

"Alright man. I can believe it. You're just a prick of pusher. I'll let the guy up North Street know who dobbed him in. If I were you I'd get the fuck out of Midgar."

Reno dropped the man, who curled his one good hand over his mouth and shook silently, huddled on the floor. Reno spat out the rest of the cigarette, which arced and hit the man in a shower of sparks.

Rude grunted. "You should pay more attention to your back."

Reno spun, eyes wide in shock, as the EMR flicked to life. When he saw Rude he grimaced. "Fuck man. You'll give a guy a heart attack."

"I could have put a bullet in your head anytime in the last two minutes."

Reno rolled his eyes. "But you didn't. What you want anyway?"

"..."

"Yeah, yeah, the fucking silent act is getting old."

Rude walked down the stairs. "... asked to find you."

"Figures." Reno looked down at the pain stricken man crawling slowly towards a corner. "Let's blow. This idiot has told everything he knows – which ain't a lot, admittedly."

Rude shrugged, and the two left the Cock. They walked in silence for a while, cutting through streets at random. Rude inspected the debris that was beginning to litter the streets. For the most part, it was construction offcuts – piles of broken slabs, tiles, metal girding, scaffolding that had been forgotten. Once the rot had set in, however, more things had joined the piles. Bags of rubbish, broken appliances, a pink sofa leaking stuffing and broken springs. Once neat houses were sliding into disrepair, the shingles coming loose, the paint peeling away, windows broken and botched with cardboard.

"Look, man, I'm sorry for running off, 'kay?" Reno shot a glance at the bigger Turk.

"..."

"But, great Odin, you need to fucking  _talk_  to me!"

"I will. When there's something important to say."

The two continued to walk. Rude looked at the cracks in the walls, saw the demolished houses around the base of one of the pillars that supported the plate above. Glancing up, he noted the way all the holes were being filled in. A few squares of sunlight still cut through the plate, and dust danced in the light.

"Is this about what happened to Tom?" Reno demanded. "It ain't my fault someone with a grudge and a summon took him down, okay?"

"..."

"I heard you killed the guy that shot him," Reno said, craning to see Rude's face. The sunglasses rippled between reflecting mako light and plunging into shadow. "I heard you beat the guy to death. That when they got there he was just shards and goo, and you were still punching what was left."

Rude stepped over the boots of a man slumped into a doorway. Reno waited, but Rude kept walking in silence.

"I heard they had to burn the suit, there was that much blood soaked into it."

Rude examined what looked like the remains of a house. The walls had been torn apart, and all the furniture stolen. Only the plumbing remained, empty pipes stuck mournfully into empty air.

"Damnit," Reno stepped around the man and glared at his twin reflections. "Are you mute? So fucking traumatised you can't even think about it?"

"You push people," Rude said. "And you work them out by the way they react. You then feel you can manipulate them."

"What the fuck? You a psychologist now?"

"... I don't like being manipulated." Rude studied the red-head calmly. "The man who shot Tom is still alive."

"What?"

"I disabled him until the back-up arrived. He had information that was useful to Shinra, and in agreement for his life he gave that information up. I believe he is now living a quiet life in Mideel."

"Dude. You are fucking unreal. You let that bastard get away with killing your partner?"

"Everybody dies," Rude said. "I will die. You will die. Everyone in this city will die. Everyone who ever lives will die."

"Yeah? Is that how you think? What's the point then? Why bother with anything? Why not just lay down and give up?"

"..." Rude looked away from the accusatory eyes. Reno waited, suddenly intent. If he could just get one sign of emotion, some show that this guy was actually human...

Rude looked back at Reno. He studied his new partner. Pale skinned, the red mark on each cheek standing out vividly. Large eyes, expressive, green shot through with blue and flashing anger or laughter or dark with thought. Carelessly dressed, hair a mess and in desperate need of a trim. Long fingers, flickering and fidgeting, fingers designed to caress, to make music, to attend to intricate details. Slouching, slender, casually cruel, lazily manipulative.

Rude closed his eyes, then reopened them trying to see his new partner as Tseng saw him. Expert at drawing and diverting attention, dismissed as an opponent by his average height and scrawny frame. Expert fingers, designed to assassinate, torture, to attend to trickery. A man whose whole life was smoke and mirrors, who did not know from one minute to the next what he might do. Rude sighed. A perfect foil for a man who was methodical, slow, thoughtful, who detested attention and could intimidate without trying.

"Because..." Rude reached for words. "... we live now. Briefly. But... it is worth it."

Reno pulled the pack of cigarettes from his pocket. He shook the last one into his hand, crumpled the empty packet and tossed it into the street. He took the lighter from his other pocket, and thumbed it. The flame reflected briefly in Rude's sunglasses, and vanished abruptly. Reno sucked a lungful of smoke, expelled it with a sigh.

"A philosopher, huh?"

"We're on North Street."

"Let's make it quick, then."

Rude examined the door, and then punched the lock out. The man inside leaped to his feet, grabbing for the machine gun on the table. Reno slammed out a Pyramid spell, and the man found himself trapped and gaping at the two blue-suited men.

Reno grinned and drew his EMR. Rude removed the machine gun from the table.

"Now then," Reno said. "Let's all have a nice chat about supply chains."

* * *

Tseng was deep into real estate transactions when his Turks returned. He hit the print button, and leaned back in his chair as the two lined up in front of his desk.

"How did it go?"

The two Turks glanced at each other, and Tseng sensed something pass between them. He suspected he would never get to the bottom of whatever argument had sent Reno storming off and Rude to his PHS to demand a different partner. Whatever issue they had had, it seemed to be resolved for now.

Reno cleared his throat. "Anton has majority shares in a company called Friezal. It's a transport company. Rents out trucks to industry, runs a package delivery firm, it even flies a couple of transport 'copters between Midgar and Junon. The same company shifts Maysay about. Delivers it to various pushers who pose as legit small businesses. The payment for the drugs goes through as transport charges, and Anton gets his cut completely above board. Shareholder dividends."

"When did Friezal get the helicopters?" Tseng asked.

"About 18 months ago," Reno said. "Looks like he decided to expand his market, not sure why considerin' the price of Maysay in Junon is barely a tenth of what is in Midgar..."

Tseng considered. "He's been buying a lot of property out there recently. I've been going through his real estate transactions. There was a sudden increase in trading about six months ago." He nodded towards the printed list.

"..." Rude picked up the paper and scanned it.

Reno shoved his hands in his pockets and shook his head. "So what. The guy's just out to make money any way possible?"

"... I think he had his eye on Junon for a while." Rude frowned at the print out.

"What makes you say that?"

"Prices were high. He made bids, but was unable or unwilling to the asking price." Rude ran a finger down the list. "That was two years ago. He starts importing Maysay… makes a loss on it... no market there at all."

Tseng nodded slowly.

"He's giving the Maysay away. Economy stalls. Crime goes up. More addicts, less jobs. Land value goes down. Same people who outbid him two years ago, now want to sell."

"For a much reduced price," Tseng said. "Interesting. The drugs were being used as a tool to drive down real estate prices."

"But why?" Reno said, baffled. "Why go to all that trouble just to own bits of Junon?"

"It's not just bits," Tseng said. "I would guess he owns the majority of it now, mainly through puppet companies."

"Does President Shinra know?" Rude asked.

"The President lost interest in Junon a while ago. The management is handled by a team nominally led by Reeve. In truth, I think Heidegger has been forcing the short sale of most of Shinra land holdings outside Midgar..."

"He's never been to Wutai," Reno said suddenly. Tseng glanced at him. "He's been everywhere else. Loves his little junkets to exotic places. But not to Wutai, even though it's become a hot spot lately..."

"You think he's a sympathiser to what remains of the Kiseragi resistance?"

"What else? He's buying Shinra out from underneath them!" Reno grinned. "Hell, the man's a genius!"

Tseng shook his head. "He needs to be eliminated. Quietly."

* * *

Anton's house was set in almost an acre of carefully maintained rolling lawn. The gates were overly ornate, but ten foot tall and tipped with a lethal mixture of broken glass, metal spikes. Loops of barbed wire ran around the top edge. The gates were maned by a little kiosk, with a guard that spent most of his time trimming his nails and making endless cups of tea.

Reno and Rude sat on the roof of the building opposite the gates. It was another smart house, belonging to one of the Shinra Managers. They watched the guard, and the sleek black cars that came and went. Anton never lacked for visitors. The mayor of Costa del Sol, the aristocratic Timmel family, a gaggle of bored wives, the CEO of the Bank of Midgar, and more.

"It's not exactly difficult to get in," Reno observed. "We just need to pretend to be a rich wanker of some kind, and he'll be falling over himself to get us to visit."

"..." Rude lowered the binoculars, and leaned back on his heels. "I don't think we'll pass. The guard is checking them as they go through."

"Aw, we can bullshit him. No problem. Act outraged enough and they'll believe anything. Beside, nobody would suspect an assassin that used the front door."

"There's the sewers. A main pipe runs directly below his property, and we can dig up into the grounds without being noticed. It's too miserable for them to want to come outside..."

"What the hell's wrong with you? I ain't crawling through a sewer pipe voluntarily."

"You're a Turk. It's part of your job description."

"Blah, fucking blah. So is wearing a tie. Nope. I say we use the front entrance."

"I say we use the sewer pipe." Rude looked at Reno. "I am the senior here."

Reno cocked his eyebrow. "Oh yeah? Well, senior this!" he leapt to his feet, twirled, gave an exaggerated bow and said. "The Duke of Mideel, at your service." Before Rude could reply Reno was slamming the door to the roof closed behind him.

"..." Rude looked over the edge of the roof. A few moments later, the red-head was getting into the car they had driven here. Reno gunned the engine and had hit sixty before he reached the corner.

"..." Rude wondered whether he should contact Tseng. He couldn't work with someone who kept running off every time Rude wouldn't go along with him. If Reno attracted attention, it would tip Anton off. It wouldn't take much digging to link Reno back to the Turks, and hence to Shinra. Rude shook his head. His only hope was to reach Anton before Reno cocked it all up. He reached for his PHS and thumbed the 7. He'd heard Scarlett had a prototype sneak-drill and he needed to take it for a test drive.

* * *

Reno swung the sports car up to Anton's gate. It hadn't taken him long to put together his persona. He'd dropped the Duke idea – too much history to memorise, and it was never good to pretend to be someone walking around already – and settled for a hot-shot day trader. The kind who'd made a fortune overnight, and would burn through it almost as fast. The sports car was a rental, but Reno had switched the number plate. The Turks had a few number plates, all registered to different owners.

The guard looked up from his nails as Reno pulled up.

"Jack Crimmel," Reno said with a sneer. The Turks had a superb team of admin assistants, and it had taken less than twenty minutes to establish a day-trader called Jack who worked for Silver & Sach. Current net-worth estimated at 14 million. "Thought I'd introduce myself. I understand that Anton is  _the_  person to meet."

"One moment sir," the guard was typing on a system below the window, out of sight. Reno watched his face, but it was impassive. "Very good, I will inform him you are on the way up."

The driveway was long and paved with pale stones. The front door was made of polished mahogany, and somehow Anton had managed to save it from the black-green rot that gripped most wood in Midgar. A servant – a butler? Reno was not conversant on his household staff hierarchies – stood waiting.

"The valet will park your car, sir." The butler extended a white-gloved hand. Reno dropped the keys into it, and let the butler bow him into the entrance hall.

It was cool and shaded, the recessed cream lighting diffusing across white marble, stately potted plants, and the occasional piece of sculpture or pottery. Anton himself was coming gracefully down the wide curved stairs opposite, flanked by two blondes on one side, and a wiry looking bodyguard with dark glasses on the other.

"Mr Crimmel!" Anton exclaimed, with a flash of white teeth. "How wonderful of you to stop by! I get so  _bored_  of seeing the same faces everyday. Variety is truly the spice of life, would you not agree?"

"Yeah," Reno said. "Call me Jack."

"Jack. I feel I know you already. A self-made man, I understand? You must tell me about all about it... but first, some drinks. I have no idea where that damn butler of mine has gotten himself to."

"Right here, sir." The butler emerged from behind a plant, carrying a silver tray on which several long flutes of champagne rested. The blondes giggled as they took theirs. Reno appraised them quickly. Daughters of some rich managers, he surmised. Done with school, little interest in settling down, lives a circle of parties, gossip, business dinners, absent parents. Not a threat.

The bodyguard was different. He was small, certainly, but Reno knew better than most that size was not the deciding factor in a fight. There was a cold awareness to the way he stood, just behind Anton's left shoulder, that suggested an efficient lethality. Then there was the butler. Elderly, but not frail. How much loyalty did Anton expect of his servants? Did a butlers duty include taking a bullet if required?

The champagne was ice cold. Reno smiled at Anton as they stood in a circle and drank.

"What unusual hair you have," one of the girls exclaimed. She was looking at Reno frank interest.

"Let me introduce these two lovely ladies," Anton smiled. "Clarissa and Sapphire. You must take them riding sometime."

"Look forward to it," Reno said.

"Now. Tell me about you. Your business, your prospects."

* * *

Rude dropped onto the walkway. The smell hit like a brick wall, a solid wave of stench. Rude wrinkled his nose, adjusted his sunglasses, and moved slowly down the tunnel. The drill-bot wheeled along behind him silently. It was a sleek, small machine, with a rudimentary robotic brain in the drill. So far Rude had found it much more amenable than his erstwhile partner.

As they reached the approximate spot in Anton's gardens, Rude indicated for the drill-bot to stop. The tunnel arched above them, metal streaked with rust and the crusted remains of long-forgotten flushes.

"Drill upwards," Rude commanded the bot, "but quietly."

The bot sprang upwards and fixed itself to the ceiling. The drill set itself to the metal and there was a screech and flashing sparks as it started to spin. Rude looked at his watch. Coming up on 8pm. He wasn't sure how long it would take to break through, but he hoped it would be around 10pm. Although Midgar was always dark these days, there were some things that simply worked better at night.

* * *

Reno had to admit he was impressed. The champagne flowed endlessly. He could only assume that Anton and his contemporaries spent every day in a bubble-driven haze. The original two girls had gone, with many protestations and promises of a swift return. Three business men had turned up, and they, Anton, and Reno had sat in one of many restful rooms and discussed stocks, shares, and cars. Cigars had been passed around. Reno kept quiet for most of it, with most of the terminology flying above his head. Anton clearly had taken this for a respectful silence, and ended up inviting him to stay for dinner.

"We eat at 9," he said. "Only a few poor dishes I'm afraid, you must come to one of my infamous dinner parties one day for proper feasting. But this is just a tete-a-tete with friends."

"I'd be delighted," Reno said, having fallen into Anton's way of speaking.

The other three declined, and as they too said long goodbyes, the guard entered and waited respectfully at the door. As they three business men left, the guard spoke quietly to Anton. Reno was watching the bodyguard, wondering how best to deal with him. If he could take him out from behind somehow... his EMR was tucked inside his jacket, one shock to the back of the head would do it.

Another tray of drinks was circling the room, but these were not flutes of champagne but rather wide flat cocktail glasses. Anton was back in the room now, and smiling. "I recommend the purple one. An Icicle Inn specialty. I discovered it last month, it's called an ice-maiden. Created in honour of the legendary lady of the ice that is said to stalk the snowfields there."

Reno took the glass and sipped it. It was vodka based, that much he could tell. As for the rest, there were blueberries, but another taste he couldn't identify. Anton took up a pink cocktail and held it up to the light admiringly. "Strawberries, juiced and strained and diluted with tonic water. A splash of vodka – or maybe two, and the whole thing clear and sweet as you could want."

"Um," Reno said, noncommittal. He wasn't sold on the ice-maiden. A straight whiskey, or a cold beer, beat a fancy cocktail any day. The drink was making his mouth feel gritty. The little foray into the world of the wealthy had been entertaining, but Reno was getting bored. The bodyguard was watching him thoughtfully, and Anton was still waxing lyrical about his pink drink. Reno stood up, and then blinked. The walls were crawling in a geometric pattern that resembled a honeycomb.

"Maysay?"

"Ah, it's working already? But then you  _are_  on the skinny side." Anton cocked his head to one side. "Forgive me, I do hate to contravene the old laws of hospitality. But then, it's not polite to masquerade under a false name is it? So tell me... who are you really?"

"Wouldn't you like to know," Reno snarled, spinning to face the bodyguard with the EMR in his hands. The bodyguard twice as big, with the snarl of a rabid wolf. The fists sped out, faster than they should be. Reno blocked them reflexively, and the rod spat sparks. Reno shuddered as the shock went through him. The maysay was interfering with his materia. "Odin take you to hell!"

The guard must have been hovering outside the door, for now he too had joined the fight. He and the bodyguard had obviously fought together before. Reno felt like his arms were made of marshmallow.

The bodyguard punched again, and this time made contact.  The punch was well-placed, landing just below the rib-cage. Reno staggered back, then whipped the EMR around and slammed it into the bodyguard's face. The shock went through both of them, but did more damage to the bodyguard. Clawing at his eyes, the bodyguard fell backwards. Reno caught sight of Anton, sipping his pink cocktail with a detached expression. He stood at the centre of a radial honeycomb. The guard took the opportunity, and shot Reno point-blank.

Reno came around slowly. His shirt was stuck to him, but he wasn't sure if it was blood or sweat. His hands were tied behind him. An experimental pull suggested that whoever had tied them knew what they were doing. Knowing that he would regret it, Reno opened his eyes a crack. He was tied up in a pool of his own blood. And the honeycomb pattern that everything seemed to adhere to suggested he was still well in the grip of the maysay.

"Awake?" Anton's voice filtered down to him. "How wonderful. We have so much to talk about, you and I."

"This isn't exactly going to win you host of the year," Reno grated.

"Well, this is true," Anton said regretfully. "I would much have preferred to have spent the evening wining and dining, instead of this rather tedious little performance. But there we go. The best laid plans, and all that."

"I'm a mercenary," Reno said. He was fairly certain Tseng would have him struck off the Turks for this no matter what he said, but he was damned if he was going to let Anton know who was after him, or why.

"And I'm the emperor of Cosmo Canyon. Get a grip." Anton lowered his voice. "I have the best PI money can buy searching you out. If you'll tell me, you'll save me some time. That's all. After all... how many assassins matching your description can there be?"

Reno pushed himself up to a sitting position, the room fracturing around him. The cream carpet had suffered badly, the blood pooling and staining. The guard stood beside Anton. The bodyguard had disappeared. Reno hoped he had managed to blind him.

* * *

Rude pulled himself up through the hole the drill-bot had made. The earth was soft, and caught on his suit and skin. As he pushed himself over the lip and into the garden, he noted the darkness. He had timed it perfectly. The mako smog hid the stars and left the city shrouded in darkness. The manor house opposite him had a few lit windows, all grouped together. He made his way quietly towards them, staying in the relative safety of the shadows. There was a kitchen door. Rude tested the door handle, and it opened quietly. Rude shook his head. So much security around the front, but this back door didn't even get locked.

The kitchen was dark, the staff having cleaned down the industrial sized stainless steel units and disappeared for the night. Rude drifted silently past the cavernous sink, and made his way to the swing door that led to the hallway. It was a narrow corridor, with double doors one end that Rude guessed led to the dining room. The other end bent sharply around and became even narrower. A butler stood at the corner, talking quietly to a maid. He held a silver tray on which several empty glasses stood. Rude drifted along until he could hear the butler.

"... blood everywhere, and Greg all bandaged up across the face... the doctor thinks he may never regain the sight in his left eye... never seen anything like it."

"But who is he?"

"No idea, none at all. I -" the butler broke off as Rude loomed up behind him. The maid went wide-eyed.

"Where are they?" Rude asked.

"I... ah... the purple wing drawing room..." The butler looked the giant man up and down, his eyes coming to rest on the black mirrors that hid Rude's eyes. "Oh my. Are you with him?"

"... take the rest of the night off." Rude said.

"I think we shall. Come with me, Moira." the butler took the arm of the maid and drew her quietly down towards the kitchen. "The purple room is upstairs. Through that door, up the stairs, first door on the left."

"..." Rude nodded. The door in question was slightly ajar. Rude peered through the crack then headed through. So Reno had tried to pull of his little stunt and had been caught. Rude hoped grimly the redhead had not given too much away. If Anton was part of a bigger picture, then the Turks had just lost any advantage they might have had in trying to figure it out.

The butler had given accurate directions. Employees were never so loyal as employers believed. Rude had rarely met a man willing to die for his paycheck. Even the Turks had limits. Would Reno sell out Shinra? Why not? In the end, everyone was out for themselves.

The door to the purple room was closed. Rude took a plastic disposable drink cup from his pocket, and placed it against the door. He listened. Whatever was happening in there, it was quiet.

* * *

Anton paced the room. Slow, lithe, graceful. He set the world to shaking, it honeycombed around him, radiated outwards, collapsed back inwards. Even when he closed his eyes Reno could still see the figure of the man. A weight that bent light and time. It was easier to focus on that, than what was happening with his body. Deep muscle twitches, all he could manage to stop himself from thrashing and seizing. The dose must have been high – but how high?

Reno was terrified now, not of the man that twisted the world, but of the drug that twisted his body, that set his own limbs and mind against him. So he tracked the man, set what remained of his attention on Anton. Followed his movement across the room, backwards and forwards. The slight frown, the silky scarf, the fingers that pointed down at him.

"You traced the Maysay back to me. What are you, the hired gun of a pissed off rival? The police have been bought out, Heidegger's been bought out, so you must be working for an independent. You realise Maysay can stop your heart? Your face tells me you do. So talk to me. Before it's too late. Is your thug of a boss worth this?" Anton paused, waited. When Reno didn't respond he started pacing again. "I can make it end you know. I have other drugs, ones that calm and soothe, ones that mitigate the Maysay, a nurse to cast Esuna. I can make it end, and you'll be fine. I can see the blood pooling under you, do you think you can bleed like that for hours without risk?"

Another pause. Anton's eyes narrowed. "Say something, you dumb animal, you should be babbling by now. Speak to me!"

Reno couldn't suppress a cry as Anton slammed a foot into his ribs. The drug had burned away everything he might have said.

He could have made up a story, but he was unable to think up a name, a motive, a lie. Tseng hung at the centre of his mind.

And Rude – stupid, bald, slow Rude – who would come and find his body and shake his head and bury him without a second thought. Rude, who neither loved him or hated him. Rude, with the empty space where his eyes should be, and an empty space inside of him.

Rude – who was coming through the door right now.

Reno wriggled, suddenly on fire, desperate for Anton's undivided attention. "I'll tell you!" his voice suddenly working. "I'll tell you to make this stop! Give me the cure!"

"Who is it?" Anton ducked down beside the redhead, his eyes focused on the pale face. Reno grimaced. "They'll kill me if I tell. You'll kill me if I don't. You were betrayed!"

"Who betrayed me?" Anton started to stand, but Rude chopped the back of his neck and Anton collapsed.

Rude checked Anton to make sure he was unconscious, and then turned to his partner. Reno was blood-soaked, sodden, twitching, pupils unsteady, iris' blazing, drool over his chin and blood caked around one ear. Rude stared at him in dismay.

" _Fuck_  man, untie me!" Reno snarled. Rude caught himself, and took his pocket knife to the rope binding Reno's wrists. Reno pulled himself up, disdaining Rude's offered hand. The redhead looked down at Anton's crumpled body with a wild look in his eye.

"..." Rude turned away. There was a wide bay window at the end of the room. Thick curtains shielded them from the night outside. Rude moved over to it, pulled one of the drapes aside and stared out. Midgar gleamed green under the black sky, a huddled shape outlined in Mako. Behind him, there was a fleshy crunch.

Reno sucked in a breath. His mouth felt clogged and dirty. Anton was dead, and the world no longer fluxed and waned around him. Mission accomplished. Mission fucking accomplished. Rude would report to Tseng on this sorry fiasco, Reno would be fired, if not killed. The walls were solid again, but the patterns crawled across them. He wasn't going to die, the drug was not about to stop his heart. His own panic had damned him. His own goddamned cocksure rush into the darkness. Reno wiped the back of his hand across his mouth, and then realised with horror that his eyes were wet. He struggled, choking on the emotion.

Rude pulled the curtain back into place. He glanced behind him, saw Reno's shoulders shaking. He walked towards him. Words failed him, as always. He reached out a hesitant hand, touched his partner on the shoulder. Reno hunched away, but Rude pulled him around. Reno stared up at his own face, Rude stared down at the same face, streaked with snot and tears. Without thinking, Rude enveloped the smaller man in a hug and Reno wept into the blue suit.

* * *

Reeve poured the water over the granules, and stirred it up into something vaguely resembling coffee. Sighing, he took the mug and took it to the plastic dinner table shoved into the alcove. No windows here, so he took a napkin and doodled casually while he waited for the coffee to cool down.

Tseng glided into the kitchenette that the Administrative Research office shared with the Department of Urban Development. Reeve smiled and waved, and went back to drawing. Tseng made a cup of tea, and came to sit opposite Reeve.

"Cats?"

"Oh..." Reeve looked down at the napkin. "Just trying to think. Seem to be drawing cats a lot lately."

"Better than anything I could draw," Tseng observed. Reeve sipped his coffee, and a sudden thought came to him.

"Oh, Tseng. I meant to say, you know you were asking me about real estate prices in Junon the other day?"

"Yes?"

"Funny thing. They've climbed spectacularly since then. They are almost back to where the original model said they should be!"

"Oh?"

"Yes, Horizons collapsed, very strange business that. Put everything on the market at once, two companies saw the chance for a monopoly I guess, and started a bidding war."

"One of those statistical anomalies I suppose. A brief fluctuation."

"Oh yes, they say everything averages out in the end. Still interesting though, these spikes and dips. I always wonder why they happen."

"There are always anomalies where humans are involved," Tseng blew on his tea. "Irrational behaviour, odd motives... impossible to track every variable."

"Is that what your team do? Statistical analysis I mean."

"Something like that."

"You really should explain it to me one day," Reeve said. "I'm sure we ought to be working together a bit more. You must have some interesting studies to show."

"You'll have to speak to Heidegger, about that," Tseng said apologetically. "Most of it is classified."

Reeve sighed.

"I know. But... those statistical anomalies. They can change the world. Change the way you see the world. The fluctuations, the missing variable." Tseng shook his head. "Never mind."

"... hmm," Reeve said, unconvinced. "Well, we'll see. Anyway, I'd best get on... this city won't design itself."

Tseng nodded goodbye and then sipped the tea, alone for a minute. His thoughts turned to the report that had landed on his desk that morning, and he drummed his fingers on the table. Had he miscalculated? Then he shook his head. There was a lot more between the lines of that report. It lay in the way Reno had suddenly started deferring to the more experienced Turk, to the way Rude had weaved a protective silence around the manner of Anton's death.

He had judged his two Turks well enough.


End file.
